


Running Out of Time

by flibbertygigget



Series: The Other 51 [38]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Broadway, Cheating, F/M, HIV/AIDS, tick tick... Boom! AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander's 30th birthday is in a week, and there are still a million things he hasn't done. All his chances hinge on the workshop for his original musical, but the universe is going to throw him a few curveballs along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Out of Time

_Do re mi fa so la ti do._

"Alexander."

_Do ti la so fa mi re do._

"Alexander, please talk to me."

Alexander's hand came down on the cheap plastic keyboard with a boom, the discordant sound making him wince. Eliza's hand fluttered at his arm as though she was afraid that if she touched him he'd shatter.

"It's- It's your birthday next week. We should discuss what we're going to do, if we're inviting anyone over-"

"Fucking birthdays," Alexander muttered, beating at the keys again.

"It's your 30th. Maybe- Maybe you could play 'Happy Birthday' for us."

"What's the point in playing something thousands of people have played before?" Alexander snapped. "Besides, at 30 I'm done. I've been writing this musical for almost 10 years now. If this next workshop doesn't go well, I'm basically screwed, so don't talk about my birthday when I have actual work to do before going to my day job." Alexander could see Eliza biting back an acidic reply and almost hoped that she'd give him an excuse to take out his foul temper on her even though she didn't deserve it. Instead she sighed and plinked out the first few notes of 'Happy Birthday.'

"I just want you to be happy. That would be enough," she said. "The more you work on this musical, the more dissatisfied and frustrated you seem." Alexander glanced on his watch and growled.

"I have to go," he said, and then, unable to bear walking away without the last word, "Thanks for wasting my time when I could have been working."

He knew that Eliza didn't deserve that, didn't deserve any of it. But he couldn't' stand the way that she talked about his birthday as though it was something to celebrate. She just didn't get it.

He was running out of time. Alexander felt it, like a bomb with minutes and seconds ticking down and down and down until... Boom! He turned 30, and the "aspiring" he put in front of all his goals and ambitions would become more or less permanent. No one wanted a breakout star above 30. If he didn't get producers interested at the workshop the day before his birthday, he could kiss all of his dreams goodbye.

* * *

Alexander looked at the time - 10:13 - and wondered whether he could just call it a night. He was tired, rehearsal had been held up by Maria Reynolds flirting with him instead of doing her job, and he was feeling vaguely guilty for enthusiastically flirting back. All in all, he just wasn't in the mood for coffee with Aaron.

Still, he couldn't just not show up. He and Aaron had been friends since they were kids, since he had come to America from Nevis, and even if Aaron seemed to have a new promotion every time Alexander saw him... it wasn't anything to be bitter over. Aaron had been the first person that Alexander had shared his musical with, and he had always been cautiously encouraging despite the fact that he knew nothing about theater.

Alexander reluctantly entered the shabby all-night cafe that he and Aaron had agreed to meet at. He was able to pick out his friend immediately. Aaron wore a tailored burgundy sweater and pressed black slacks, his hair shaved close and neat to his head. He made Alexander, with his grimy "Mr. Write" t-shirt and three-day beard, feel positively scruffy.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Alexander said. "We had to go over the changes I made to the closing number like a billion times and then Maria was asking me if she could play up the sexiness of her character more, so I kind of lost track of time."

"It's fine," Aaron said. "Here. I remembered how you take it." He pushed the cup of coffee over to Alexander, who took a gulp. Aaron had got it right. "So, how's your theater thing coming along?" Alexander groaned a little.

"At this point I don't even know," he said. "I mean, we have a workshop next week. If that goes well - you know, everyone shows up, people who matter like it, all that jazz - than it could end up being produced. It getting a home after that is kind of a toss-up, but this workshop is crucial."

"And what if it fails?"

"Don't be such a pessimist." The potential answers to that question were what kept Alexander up at night.

"My point is that your plan has a lot of ifs." Alexander bristled. "I'm not saying that you should give up on your musical and getting produced, but you have to have a Plan B in case you don't."

"I wait tables. It pays the rent." Aaron leaned forward.

"I was thinking about something a bit more permanent than that," he said. Alexander snorted. "Look, my company has a job opening for a branding consultant. You'd be the ideas man, giving them names and ways to market their new products. You'd still be able to work in a creative field, just in a different way."

"Aaron, I have stuff to do."

"I'm not asking you to give up your theater thing-"

"It's not a 'thing,' it's my calling, it's what I been wanting to do since I was seven!"

"You have to be realistic." Though Alexander had been almost shouting, Aaron was still annoyingly placid. "Alexander, how many musicals get produced a year? 10? 20?" Alexander didn't answer. "I don't know enough about musicals to know for certain, but with those odds, being good might not be enough. So you won't be produced, but you'll keep trying, because you're a stubborn bastard. In the meantime, you'll be working a minimum wage job, living paycheck to paycheck. What if you get sick or hurt? Hell, what if you get so old trying to make it on Broadway that you can't keep up?"

"Aaron..."

"It's a good job, Alex. You'll get a salary, benefits, a 401k, fucking  _insurance_." Aaron put a hand on his arm, and Alexander stared into his rapidly cooling coffee. "I know it's not what you wanted, it's not Broadway, but... sometimes you have to give up your dreams for the sake of being realistic."

"Aaron," Alexander said, "I'm not you. I'd never be satisfied with that kind of life."

"At least think about it," Aaron almost begged. "The way you live, constantly searching for that big break when you could be so much further if you just got a decent but normal job... It's not fair to you." Aaron waited for him to say something, to agree with the logical, cynical words, but Alexander stayed silent. "Well, if you change your mind, you can call me about the job at any time." Aaron stood and, after hesitating for a moment, left the cafe and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

"Why are you so late?" Eliza said when he finally got home.

"I told you, I was having coffee with Aaron after rehearsal."

"For three hours?"

"It ran a little late, okay?" They both jumped as the phone rang. "I'll get it." The voice on the other end of the line almost made him groan.

"Hey, Mr. Writer/Director," Maria said.

"Maria, why are you calling me?" As she babbled on about character development and vocal range, Alexander glanced over at Eliza. She did not look happy.

"Look, Maria, it's late. I'll talk to you at rehearsal tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Alexander." Alexander hung up the phone and turned to face Eliza.

"Why was she calling you?" Eliza asked, only the barest hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Eliza, the workshop's in 6 days, she's obviously nervous."

"Fine. Whatever." Alexander could tell that she wasn't buying it. "That wasn't what I stayed up to talk to you about anyways." Alexander bit his bottom lip.

"What is it?" he said.

"I - I just got a job," she said, looking apologetic, almost nervous. The way she stressed the word 'job' made it clear that she wasn't talking about folding burritos at a Chipotle.

"Eliza, that's great! Is it in a musical, or a pure dance role? What kind of profile does the stage have?" She held up her hand.

"It's not that kind of job," she said. "It's a dance studio in New Jersey. They're looking for a teacher for the advanced class." Alexander felt his heart drop. "I know you need to be here. I'm not asking you to come with me. But I need this. I can't waste this opportunity."

"What about your career?" Eliza laughed bitterly.

"What career?" she said. "I've tried to make it as a dancer, Alexander, you know I have, but it just... wasn't meant to be. I'd love that life, but I also want to settle down, have a family. I'm not stupid enough to think that you'd give up on your musical to follow me, but... if you ever decide that you can risk being tied down, I'll be waiting there."

"When do you leave?" Alexander said numbly.

"The day after your birthday," Eliza said.

"Can't you stay?" Eliza hesitated, but when she shook her head she was firm, decided.

"I'm sorry," she said.

* * *

As the date of his workshop grew closer and closer, Alexander struggled to put everything that was happening from his mind. Sure, his girlfriend was moving to another state and his best friend was trying to pressure him into joining some cult, but he had to concentrate on his musical. If he got distracted, he could throw away his shot at becoming a theater sensation.

Perhaps that was why, two days before the workshop, he made two of the biggest mistakes of his life.

When Alexander saw Aaron's number on his caller ID, he was annoyed. "What do you want?" he spat into the receiver.

"Alex." At any other time, Alexander would have been able to read Aaron's voice, but he was staying awake on coffee and willpower and he still had two hours of rehearsal to go and every time he though more than a few hours ahead he felt sick...

"This had better be important to call me during our second to last rehearsal before the workshop," he said.

"Alex..." Aaron trailed off, and Alexander tapped his foot impatiently for a few seconds before sighing loudly into the phone. "Never mind. It can wait until after the workshop."

"Good. Don't interrupt me again, okay? I have work to do here, real work."

"I understand." Alexander hung up, not bothering to feel guilty. Instead, he turned back to the rest of the rehearsal room. There was so much work to do in two days, too much to waste the precious time he had on secondary things.

The second mistake he made was after rehearsal, which by now was running a solid four or five hours late every night, wrapping up in the wee hours of the morning. Alexander, as always, was the last to leave - or at least that was what he thought.

"Hey," Maria said behind him. Alexander froze. All the lights except one were off, and the shadow it threw were ethereal from the endless reflections in the mirrored walls.

"Maria," he said, "I thought you'd left."

"I wanted to talk to you, really talk," she said, stepping closer until they were almost touching.

"This doesn't feel much like talking," Alexander said, his breath stuttering. Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, or at least he wanted to think that he would have, but... he was tired, and the lights were low, and she was soft and warm and _there_.

If anyone had ever thought to ask, Alexander would have said that she was the one to begin the kiss. He'd be lying.

* * *

Tick, tick, tick.

"How many people are out there?" Alexander said nervously. He didn't know what he wanted the answer to be.

"The chairs are about half full, but there's still 15 more minutes before you begin," Aaron said. "Calm down, Alex. You'll do fine."

"I'm not the one I'm worried about," Alexander said. "What if everything goes wrong? What if-"

"You all know this show," Aaron said. "I've seen how hard you've been working. It's inspiring. I wish that I had half that drive." Alexander felt his face grow warm.

"Thanks," he said. "Look, I'm... I know I've been an ass lately."

"Damn straight," Aaron said. "You should apologize to your girlfriend after the show." Alexander winced.

"Yeah, I should with her too. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry. You only meant to help with the job thing." Aaron looked down at the ground as though afraid to meet Alexander's eyes.

"Alex, there's something I have to tell you..."

"What is it?" Aaron looked up, out of the wings and onto the stage.

"Never mind," he said. "I'll tell you later."

"Afterwards?"

"Yeah." Aaron paused. "Break a leg. I know you want this."

The workshop passed by in a blur. Alexander honestly couldn't have said whether it went well or not, not when all he could see was an ocean of blank, harsh faces. But in the middle of the ocean, like two buoys, were Aaron and Eliza, clear as the North Star. That familiarity was all that let him though the workshop without fainting or calling a stop to the whole thing.

After stammering a few encouraging words to the performers, Alexander stumbled out into the cool night air. Eliza hugged him, congratulating him, but Aaron hung back. Alexander managed to make his way to him.

"Coffee?' he said. Aaron looked surprised.

"Sure," he said.

They went to the same dingy late-night coffee shop. Aaron was silent, deep in thought, but Alexander could be patient. He managed to wait until they had their coffees before talking.

"What did you want to tell me?" he said. Aaron fiddled with the cufflinks of the full suit he had worn to the workshop, classy as always.

"Alex, I need to tell you something important," he said. "I- I wanted to tell you from the start, but-"

"I was an ass," Alexander said. "You can tell me now."

"I'm sick," Aaron said softly. "I know I'm sick, Alex, and I'm not going to get any better."

* * *

_Do re mi fa so la ti do._

It didn't make any sense. No matter how many times Alexander replayed those words in his head, like a too familiar scale, they didn't make any sense. Aaron couldn't have AIDS.

_Do ti la so fa me re do._

Aaron was his best friend, the first friend he made when he came to America when he was just a kid. He couldn't be dying. He couldn't die.

_Do re me fa so la ti do._

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. Aaron had never been very interest in theater, not like Alexander, but he had always supported him. Whatever play or musical Alexander was in, he could be sure that, in he looked out into the audience, Aaron would be there. It wasn't fair that, on the brink of finally making it, Alexander would be left adrift, alone.

_Do ti la so fa me re do._

It wasn't fair that Aaron, who was always so good and kind and smart, would be boiled down to a statistic to warn stupid kids.

_Do re me fa so la ti - Boom!_

Alexander slammed his fistes on the keyboard over and over and over, not caring about the cacophony or the pain, not bothering to hide the tears.

Aaron was dying. Aaron was dying Aaron was dying Aaron was dying and nothing could make it better. All the words and notes and songs he wrote were useless, because he could stay here playing scales all night, he could write a thousand songs for his best friend, and none of it would make an iota of difference.

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

The fuze ran out. Alexander was 30. Aaron was dying. Nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

When Alexander first woke up, he thought that the last night had been a horrible nightmare. Then it came rushing back. Aaron was dying. He was 30.

Alexander walked down to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Coffee, he needed coffee. He was so focussed on that singular goal that it took him a few seconds to register what was happening.

"Surprise!" Eliza and Aaron yelled. On the tiny table was a cake with three candles and - thank God - a full coffee pot. "Happy Birthday!"

"You guys..." Alexander said. Eliza gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I know you said that you didn't want a celebration," she said, "but, well, it felt right."

"It's perfect," Alexander said.

After he had blown out the candles and taken a piece of cake, Alexander slowly sat down at his keyboard. For a moment he hesitated, then he began to play a familiar tune.

_Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you._

Alexander felt Aaron's hand on his shoulder and Eliza's body by his side and for one brief, fragile moment felt that 30 wasn't too bad after all.

_Happy Birthday dear Alex. Happy BIrthday to you._

 

 

 


End file.
